


What holds apart the stars

by slugmutt



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Siblings, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Siblings to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Karaoke, Now with Smutty Epilogue, Surprise Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-07-28 15:24:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20066248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slugmutt/pseuds/slugmutt
Summary: Eight years ago, Jyn was one of three teenagers taken in by a pair of strange but kind-hearted ex-monks.Three years ago, Cassian said he loved her, then disappeared overnight.And now? Now Jyn's not sure if she wants to kiss her former foster brother, or punch him square in the face.





	1. I saw you standing in the corner (Jyn)

Jyn hates surprises.

Fortunately, the party Bodhi throws for her isn’t a surprise at all. For all his attempts at subterfuge, Bodhi is about as sneaky as a rampaging elephant. If the phone calls she’d overheard hadn’t given him away weeks ago, the false note in his voice as he suggested they take a nice walk outside would have done it.

They haven’t gone outside just to “take a nice walk” in their lives.

So yeah. Coming back to discover a couple dozen of their friends waiting to celebrate her 23rd birthday with her isn’t exactly a surprise.

Seeing a certain familiar face among them, though – that’s a surprise. One about as welcome as getting hit by a truck, and nearly as painful.

Cassian Andor.

He’s standing at the edge of the crowd, half in the shadows, but she notices him immediately. He’s changed – he’s a little sharper at the edges, a little too thin, and he has a beard – but it’s definitely him.

Cassian _fucking_ Andor.

It’s been three years. Three years of simultaneously needing him and hating him, three years of not knowing, most of the time, if he was alive or dead. Three years of missing him so much it hurt.

She is going to _murder_ him.

Sometimes, she thinks her family knows her too well. Because she’s barely taken two steps toward Cassian when Bodhi is suddenly at her side, grabbing her arm and spinning her into a group hug with Leia. “Happy birthday!” he yells, and then, “Come, let’s get drinks.”

“I don’t want drinks,” she says, as he drags her toward the kitchen. Damn it, when did he get big enough to drag her? She knew he’d been spending more time at the gym – any excuse to flirt with Chirrut’s new star pupil – but she didn’t realize he’d put on this much muscle. She’s going to have to up her game.

“I want drinks,” Bodhi says, grim. He marches her to the counter, only loosening his grip when she stops struggling. He watches her warily, clearly ready to intervene if she makes a break for it.

“You don’t want a drink,” she sulks. “You just don’t want me hitting Cassian.”

“You think??”

She’s almost embarrassed. It takes a lot to make Bodhi resort to sarcasm. But then she remembers what Cassian did, and she’s angry all over again.

“I can’t believe you invited him,” she mutters.

Bodhi shoots her a deeply unimpressed look. “Jyn. He’s our _brother._”

_Foster_ _brother_, she almost says. But she stops herself, ashamed. Bodhi is her foster brother, too, but she will fight anyone who says they aren’t real family.

No, the problem isn’t that Cassian isn’t related to her by blood. The problem is that he left.

*

A memory, then. Cassian at his desk, studying as always, while she lay sprawled across his bed, pretending to read a book.

“What’s wrong?” he asked after a moment.

How did he do that? He hadn’t even turned to look at her, he just knew. If it were anyone else, she’d be angry at being so exposed. But it was Cassian.

“Just worried about next year,” she admitted. She knew she didn’t have to explain herself. He knew what it was like. She felt like she’d just found this home, this family, and now she had to leave. And she should be happy, because this was an amazing opportunity, and she was going to study what she loved, and four years ago she never would have thought she could have all of this.

But she wasn’t happy. She was terrified. She knew it didn’t make sense, but there was a part of her that felt like if she let go, even for a moment, it would all disappear.

“Hey,” he said gently, coming to sit next to her. His hand came up to rub her back, and she had to fight not to lean into his touch like a cat seeking affection. “You’re going to be fine.”

She picked at a loose thread on his sheet, unable to meet his eyes. “Weren’t you worried?”

“About you learning explosive engineering? Yes, terrified,” he said, earning himself an elbow to the ribs.

“About leaving.” Cassian had chosen an in-state school, but he had still been two hours away. Too far to visit during the semester, not that Jyn and Bodhi hadn’t taken the occasional late-night joyride out in his direction.

Jyn had spent her freshman year at a local school, driving to classes each morning and returning to Chirrut and Baze’s house at night. It was a good arrangement. But the local school didn’t have a good chemical engineering program, and she really did want to study explosives someday.

“I won’t lie, it was hard,” he said, his hand still rubbing her shoulder. She shifted slightly, encouraging him to rub the other, and he did. “But it gets easier. And remember, just because you’re not here doesn’t mean that we aren’t with you.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’ll be with me in spirit?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

He made a face. “Of course not. I mean we’ll actually be with you, the minute you need it. I’m serious. You can call me anytime, even if it’s nothing urgent.”

“I know,” she said. She’d called him in the middle of the night more times than she could count, even without an invitation.

“And if you need me, I’ll be there. Just say the word.”

“You’ll be four hours away.”

“Two and a half hours,” he argued. “Four is only if you drive the speed limit.” He looked at her, something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite read. “I love you, Jyn. You know that, right?”

She did know, but as far as she could recall it was the first time he’d ever said it out loud. She felt a sudden lump in her throat.

“I love you, too,” she said, also for the first time. “I’m glad you’re my family, Cass.”

*

She had left two days later. The promise that he’d be there was what gave her the courage to get on the plane when the time came, and fly off to a new city where she knew nobody.

Two weeks after that, she got a call from Bodhi telling her that Cassian had taken a long-term assignment in Mexico. Undercover. He had left the night before, without saying goodbye.

She’d had no idea that he was planning to leave. Hell, she’d had no idea he was even considering police work. He’d majored in robotics, for fuck’s sake.

She hasn’t seen him since. Not until tonight.

She’s talked to him, once every few months, each conversation bringing a fresh wave of pain. Once, they talked for hours; now every conversation is stilted and awkward. He wasn’t allowed to tell her where he was. He wouldn’t tell her what he was doing, which only confirmed that whatever he was doing was stupidly dangerous. He wouldn’t tell her _anything_, to the point where she should could barely stop herself from screaming.

It was as if the real Cassian had been stolen from her and replaced by a stranger.

Bodhi interrupts her thoughts. "Aren't you at least a little happy to see him?" he asks, sounding lost.

She steals a glance at the living room. He’s half-hidden by Chirrut and Baze – the other half of this intervention, apparently – but she can tell it’s him, the same way she felt his presence when she first walked into the room. "Happy" is not really a good word for how she feels about it. She wants to hug him, she wants to hit him, she wants to hear about everywhere he’s been and everything he’s done, she wants to shove him out the door and lock it behind him.

She takes the cup Bodhi hands her and tosses it down her throat without bothering to look at the contents.

This, she thinks, is going to be a very long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Now that I've finished most of my works, I'm going to take a break from fanfic and finally finish my thesis.
> 
> My brain: Oh, you sweet summer child.


	2. On the edge of a burning light (Bodhi)

It wasn’t always easy, being Jyn and Cassian’s brother.

Not that they weren’t both wonderful as individuals. They were the best.

Bodhi will never forget the moment, seven months after Chirrut and Baze found him, and one month after they found Jyn and Cassian, that Jango cornered him in the school library. He’d been expecting the usual – a few insults, a few racial slurs, and a couple of death threats, followed by the theft of whatever money he had on him, if he was lucky. A beating, if he wasn’t.

What he actually got was his surly, half-savage new foster sister stepping in to shove Jango out of the way. “Fuck off,” she’d snarled, her skinny, 15-year-old frame positively dwarfed by Jango’s. The older boy laughed.

“Who’s going to make me, sweetheart? You?” he’d said.

“If necessary,” she’d responded, and suddenly Jango jumped back, and for the first time Bodhi saw fear in his eyes. He couldn’t understand why, until he saw the flash of metal in Jyn’s hand.

He couldn’t help being impressed at her courage, even as he was instantly horrified. _Put that away_, he tried to yell, but his throat was frozen. If she hadn’t intervened, he would have gotten a beating; now, who knew what Jango would do to her.

“You’re both psycho,” Jango hissed, but Bodhi noticed he kept his distance.

And then Cassian appeared from within the stacks, seeming to come out of nowhere. “You heard them. Get out of here,” he said, hitting Jango with a level look that was somehow more frightening than a glare would have been.

It was more than Bodhi had ever heard him say before.

Jango gave all of them a glare and a rude gesture, but he left.

Bodhi found himself speechless, his gaze flickering between the two of them. “I… thanks,” he finally managed. Jyn just glared at him, shoving her knife back into her sleeve. He turned to Cassian, only to find that the other boy had disappeared.

It was the last time he was ever bullied.

Yes, his foster siblings were amazing, each in their own way. Being their brother was like having his own personal superheroes to call on. Or maybe mob enforcers.

Together, though… together, whatever it is that’s between them makes him feel like a distant planet orbiting twin stars.

Again, he finds himself falling into memory.

*

It had been an ordinary day. Rainy, he remembers; the kind of rain that felt almost aggressive as it slammed against the windows. But they were all warm and dry inside, in Chirrut and Baze’s cozy little living room. Him in the fat old armchair, sketching in his notebook, Cassian at the desk, diligently doing his homework, and Jyn sprawled across the couch, bothering Cassian.

“But why won’t you help me?”

“It’s illegal.”

She frowned. “I know, you mentioned that already. But why won’t you help me?”

“_Because_, it’s – “ Cassian broke off and sighed, looking to him. “Help me out here, Bodhi.”

“Cassian doesn’t break the law,” he’d said, not looking up from his drawing. “You know that.”

Jyn turned over, flopping onto her back with a dramatic sigh. “You guys are talking as if I want to rob a bank or something.”

“You want to steal Krennic’s car,” Cassian pointed out.

“Not _steal_ it,” she said. “Just relocate it.”

“To his roof,” Cassian said, as if he still didn’t want to believe his ears.

“If a bunch of MIT nerds can do it, so can we.”

“We’ll get caught.”

She raised her head, smelling weakness. “No, we won’t! Krennic will be gone all weekend. He’s spending Thanksgiving with his mom.”

Bodhi found himself blinking in surprise. “Krennic has a mom? That’s… weird, somehow.”

“Right?” Jyn said. “I always just assumed he’d been spawned in a lab.”

He couldn’t be sure, but he almost thought he saw the corner of Cassian’s mouth twitch. He blinked, then decided he must have imagined it.

“Come on,” Jyn said, managing to turn the one word into seven syllables. “Krennic is gone. His house is way out in the middle of nowhere. We can do this. I know I can take the car apart in under two hours – “ Cassian shot her a disturbed look at that, and Bodhi coughed to hide his surprise “- I just need your help carrying the heavy parts.”

“Is that all,” Cassian said, deadpan.

She sat up, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t see why you’re being so uptight about this.”

“Jyn.” Cassian put his pen down, and fixed her with a cold stare. “I don’t have citizenship yet. You know that. I can’t just… if I get in trouble, it could be very bad.”

She shrugged. “I’m not a citizen either, but you don’t see me whining about it.”

A light flush appeared on Cassian’s cheeks, and Bodhi found himself sitting up straighter, his gaze flashing worriedly between the two of them.

“It’s different for me than for you,” Cassian said, his voice getting louder. “And you know that. Or would, if you’d just think about it. I can’t just do the things you do, Jyn. People wouldn’t think it’s cute or funny, they’d throw me in jail.” The last words were practically a yell.

There was a long moment of silence. And then -

“We’d break you out,” Jyn said confidently. As if it was supposed to be obvious.

“I’d be deported.”

She rolled her eyes. “Like I said, we’d break you out.”

“Of Mexico?” he said, arching an eyebrow. “It’s a country, Jyn, not a prison.”

“Good,” she said brightly. “That will make it easier.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Cassian replied, but his tone was almost fond, and the corner of his mouth was definitely lifting, and the way he looked at her as she turned away was –

Well. Bodhi knew, then and there, how things were going to be with the three of them. Maybe not that week, maybe not even that year, but someday. Someday, the two of them would pair off, creating their own perfect, self-contained group. He would hover around them, never quite a part of things, but hopefully able to at least share in their light.

It hadn’t been a happy thought, and he’d found himself wishing that it wouldn’t come true.

*

Now, he’d give anything to feel like a third wheel again. It would be so much better than _this_.

“Are you going to talk to him?”

She pulls her arm from his loose grip with a grunt. “Didn’t you just drag me away from him so I _wouldn’t_ talk to him? Make up your mind,” she says, not quite meeting his eye.

He sighs, earning him an injured glare. “You know what I mean. Talk, like adults. Ask him how he’s been. Be nice.” She’s silent. “Is this – come on, I know you don’t like this any more than I do. I mean, is this how it’s going to be in ten years?”

“No.” She shoots him a sly grin. “In ten years, you’ll be settled down with Luke and have a bunch of kids.”

Bodhi takes a quick moment to appreciate the mental image, then frowns. “Jyn. Please. Can’t we – can’t you find a way to get along? I always thought we’d all be together for life, not…” He trails off, depressed at the future he can see unfolding before them. There was a time he’d just assumed they’d grow old together. Now, though, he pictures seventy years of separate phone calls to each of them, separate visits, separate lives.

She crosses her arms across her chest. “I’m not the one who left,” she mutters.

“It’s not like he was off partying, Jyn, he was out there risking his life! And you can’t blame him, considering.”

He sees her thinking it over, and it’s all he can do to keep his mouth closed. He knows she’s angry, he gets that. And maybe she’s even right that Cassian could have called her more. And yeah, they were all surprised when he left.

But for fuck’s sake, the man had a chance to do something to fight back against the scum who’d murdered his family. Bodhi can’t fault him for trying. And if she were thinking about it rationally, Jyn wouldn’t either. He knows she’d do the same in a heartbeat.

Hell, _he’d_ do the same, and he’s definitely the least vengeful of the three of them. Really, he honestly doesn’t get what her problem is.

“What are you so angry about?” he asks gently.

“Bodhi. He _left_.” There’s so much venom in that one word that he nearly gives up then and there, but then –

Then he looks at her, really looks at her, and she’s not angry at all. Oh, she wants to be angry, he can tell, with her clenched fists and determined chin. But the look in her eyes… Jyn is hurting badly.

He knows better than to think this means there won’t be a screaming fight. He loves Jyn, but she can be awful when she’s hurt. She’d rather a year of open hostility than a moment of vulnerability.

Still, he can’t help but hope. If she can just tell Cassian how she feels, if Cassian can just stay and talk it out… if they could just communicate like adults then maybe, _maybe_ this will all work out.

He sighs again, under his breath this time, so Jyn won’t hear. _If_ this, _if_ that – but trying to control either of his siblings is like trying to hold back the tide. It’s out of his hands now. All he can do is wait, and hope, and try to survive the night with his apartment and sanity intact.

“Just give it an hour,” he suggests. Pleads. “Be here, celebrate, talk to people. If you still want to fight him in an hour, you can do it then.”

It takes a long, long moment, but finally she nods.


	3. I don't care what other people say (Cassian)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once, I wrote most of a story before posting it, so updates should be fairly frequent.
> 
> Chapter titles are from the song "In the cold, cold night" by the White Stripes.

Sometimes, Cassian can’t help hating Chirrut and Baze, just a little.

Which of course makes him feel like the worst person on earth. There would be no reason to hate Chirrut and Baze even if they hadn’t taken him in, made sure he finished school, and just generally been the first people to give a damn about him in a very long time.

It’s just. Of all the things he never wanted to be, Jyn Erso’s brother is very high on the list.

It’s not even like he used to feel like her brother, before all of this… messiness. No, he went straight from hating her, to trying desperately to push increasingly vivid fantasies about her out of his head. So quickly he can pinpoint the precise moment it changed.

*

Four months after he’d found himself at Baze and Chirrut’s, he was starting to think maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, but so far the men seemed to be exactly who they said they were – a somewhat strange, secretly kind pair of martial artists with some extra room and a soft spot for kids with nowhere to go.

And Bodhi was just about the nicest person he’d ever met. Sometimes, looking at him, Cassian found himself remembering his younger brother. Which was ridiculous, because Bodhi was nearly seventeen, and Alvero had only been three when he…

Anyway. Bodhi was great.

Jyn, though. He found himself scowling just thinking of her. Intellectually, he knew she’d done nothing wrong. Well. Not to _him_, anyway. But she was just so infuriating, with her apathy and her rules-breaking and the way she walked around with her rage on her face for everyone to see.

And then she didn’t understand why he didn’t just do the same. “Lighten up, Cassian,” she’d say, rolling her eyes, or, “Have some fun for once,” or, “You’re not eighty, you know, you’re not even eighteen.”

He could just imagine how she’d react seeing him at that moment, at home on a Friday evening with his textbooks open in front of him. The jokes she’d make. Easy for her, he thought bitterly. She was a pretty, white British girl. She could go around looking like she wanted to kill someone, and people thought that she was trying to look like a badass, not that she was genuinely terrifying (which was, as he could testify, a mistake). She could ignore the teacher and blow off all the homework and half the tests, and the worst they’d say about her was that she wasn’t “living up to her potential.”

It was enough to make him want to grab her and shake some sense into her. He could almost picture it. She’d into the room, some smart comment on those soft, full lips of hers. He’d grab her shoulders, maybe slam her into the wall – not enough to hurt her, of course, just enough to make a point. She’d look at him, her eyes wide, her chest heaving, and for once she’d have nothing to say. Then he would lean down and –

He stopped. Oh.

_Fuck_.

If things had been even a little different, he might have gone for it. Even with her being, legally, something close to a sister. It was wrong, he knew, but – he couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t stop wanting her. It was as if his brain was making up for all the years he’d spent without much real emotion by squeezing half a decade’s worth of lust into a few short months.

And fuck, he also _liked_ her. She was funny, and brilliant, and it turned out that once he got to know her, she wasn’t apathetic at all. The opposite, really. Not that she’d ever admit it.

But there were two things stopping him. For one, she was more than two years younger than him. When he turned eighteen in four months, she’d still be just fifteen (for another five months, one week, and three days. Not that he was counting).

He knew she would kick his ass for suggesting they were anything less than equal, but the age difference mattered.

And that wasn’t even the bigger of the two problems. No, the main thing was that she wanted – _needed_ – this family. That was another thing she’d never say, but he could tell. He didn’t need 10 years of watching people from the shadows, learning everything he could from the smallest things they said, to know that breaking up their little family would devastate her. She’d pretended to be uninterested in all of them for the first few weeks, but soon enough she was helping Baze in the kitchen and singing along to 80s pop music with Chirrut (both of them horribly off key) and decorating the house for the holidays with an enthusiasm even Bodhi couldn’t match.

If they got together, and then broke up, it would ruin the life they’d all built together. And he wasn’t going to be the one to screw up the best thing in her life. No matter how hard it was, he would be what she needed. Family.

So when she called him for help, he came, and when she dated other people he smiled and pretended to be happy for her, and when she snuck into his bedroom at night because she had nightmares, he kept his reassurance purely platonic. _Brotherly_.

He took so many cold showers that first summer that even Bodhi started to teasingly call him a neat freak. But hey, whatever worked.

*

“That went well,” Chirrut says serenely as he drags Cassian toward the balcony.

Baze snorts, and Cassian can’t help but agree.

“She looked like she wanted to murder me,” he says, the words sounding as empty as he feels.

“But she didn’t!” Chirrut points out. He looks to Baze, then, silently seeking help.

“I’ll get drinks,” Baze announces, then runs away. Cassian sighs.

“It’s OK. Really,” he tells Chirrut. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can handle Jyn.”

That’s a bald-faced lie. He’s never been able to handle Jyn. Just knowing she’s in the same room already has him feeling off balance, out of control, as if some deeper part of his brain has taken over and he’s just along for the ride. 

From the look Chirrut gives him, he’s not buying it either. Thankfully, Baze reappears with alcohol before Chirrut can give him one of his lectures.

Cassian doesn’t need a lecture. He knows exactly what he needs to do. The problem is just getting his heart to play along.

It takes a while, but eventually Chirrut and Baze get distracted, giving him a chance to sneak away. It’s a bit too much, all the noise and the strangers. And Jyn, everywhere he looks but never talking to him, never meeting his eye.

He’s not sure what he expected from their reunion – he’d been afraid to hope for much – but damn it, he’d thought she’d at least look at him.

The roof is where he’s always gone when he’s scared, or furious, or just too wired to sleep. It’s a bit pointless here, in the city, with the street lights blocking out most of the stars. But old habits die hard.

He could swear he can sense the moment she decides to come after him. When she appears on the roof, making her way over on silent feet, there’s no surprise.

He makes the mistake of looking at her. The moment his eyes meet hers, it’s as if the air has been sucked from his body.

Three years, it’s been three years. And he wouldn’t have said he was pining for her all of that time. He would have said, in fact, that his plan to get over her was going fairly well.

Clearly, he would have been wrong. Because what he feels right now just looking at her is definitely not the chaste brotherly love he was going for.

“Hello, Jyn,” he manages, the words so small compared to everything he wants to express.

She folds her arms across her chest and glares. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”

It’s so perfectly Jyn that he almost smiles, but he knows she wouldn’t appreciate it. “What do you want to hear?” he asks instead.

She drops her hands to her sides. From most people, the gesture would be a good sign. With her, though, hands down means her hands are ready to move in any direction at a second’s notice. Hands down means ready to fight.

“Where the hell you’ve been,” she practically snarls at him. “What you’ve been doing. Why you don’t talk to me anymore. Why you – “ Her voice trembles, and she stops.

“I’ve been in Mexico. You know that,” he said, taking care to keep his tone calm.

It’s the wrong thing to say. To be fair, he’s not sure anything would be the right thing to say, right now. Still, he finds himself holding up his hands in surrender at her glare. “I was undercover,” he says, a hint of defensiveness slipping into his voice. “I couldn’t always make contact.”

“You called Bodhi,” she says, her voice low.

“I called you, too.”

“Twice a year.”

_I wanted to talk to you_, he wants to tell her. _I wanted it too much, that was the problem_. He had sat opposite the phone in his commander’s office at least a dozen times, wanting to call her, desperate to hear her voice. Forcing his fingers to dial Bodhi or Chirrut and Baze instead.

He swallows back the words. “What are you really mad about?” he says instead. It’s a gamble, he knows, he might make things worse. But he knows there’s something she’s not saying.

“You left.” _There it is, _he thinks. “You said you’d always be there for me, and then you left.”

Her words linger, clawing at him like a living thing, sharp-toothed and angry. He lets out a long breath. “I did.”

“Why,” she says, tears in her voice, and he has to close his eyes against a surge of emotion more intense than anything he’s felt in a year. He’d known he hurt her, but this – he really fucked up, didn’t he?

“I had to do it,” he says, desperate. Not entirely sure which of them he’s trying to convince. “This was my opportunity to do something to help, to make sure that what happened to me won’t happen to other kids.”

For a minute all he hears is the wind and Jyn sniffling. And then, “Bullshit,” she says again. He opens his mouth to defend himself, but she keeps going. “I’m not saying that’s not true, but that’s not the whole story. I know it’s not.” She fixes him with her harshest stare. “Tell me. Everything.”

He’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry. He knows he’s good at hiding his emotions (he should be, he’s been practicing since he was six). He doesn’t like to brag, but he knows that he was one of the best undercover agents the agency ever had. Drug lords who’ve survived decades in the trade by knowing who not to trust have been fooled by his act. But of course Jyn sees through his lies in seconds.

He leans against the railing and, for the first time, thinks that maybe he should tell her the truth.

On the one hand, this is the one thing he promised himself he would never, ever share. The secret that could destroy their family. Half the reason he left was so that he would never have to tell her.

On the other hand, it looks like she’s going to hate him either way. And if she has to hate him, if everything is going to fall apart no matter what, she should at least put the blame where it belongs. She should know that it’s his fault, his lack of self-control; that there was nothing more she could have done.

And despite all the lies he’s told because of his work – or maybe because of them – he always has preferred honesty with the people he loves. No matter how unpleasant.

She’s quiet now, waiting for him to decide what it’s going to be. Will he keep lying, keep trying to deal with this on his own? Keep pushing her away?

Or will he risk everything for the sake of honesty?

He knows she doesn’t feel what he feels, so the only thing he could possibly accomplish is making her uncomfortable around him for the rest of time. That’s what he’s always told himself before, anyway. But now, face to face with her, he sees the way she glares down any opposition like an avenging angel, and he thinks that maybe he’s been selling her short. She looks ready to deal with any harsh truth he might throw at her. Probably by trying to punch it in the face, but still.

She’s tough, and strong. And she’s older, now; not the skinny, jumpy 15-year-old he met so many years ago, or even the sarcastic, secretly vulnerable 20-year-old he left behind. She can handle this. And if she can’t, well – the agency would probably take him back, if he asked.

Fuck it. He can’t believe he’s doing this, but she deserves to know.

“I thought it might help to spend some time apart,” he begins. “After what happened.”

She looks at him like he’s crazy. “What do you mean, after what happened? Nothing happened, Cassian, that’s why the whole thing was so – “ She waves with a hand, apparently to indicate how little sense he makes. “Everything was fine.” Her voice drops. “It was a week after – after I said I loved you.”

His idiot heart skips a beat just hearing the words. “Like a brother,” he says, quickly. “You said you loved me like a brother.”

She looks confused.

He takes a deep breath. This is it, then. He can’t believe he’s actually telling her this, but – it’s not like he can make things worse at this point, right?

(Is he really doing this because she needs to hear, he wonders, or is it him who needs to tell her? She always has been the person he comes to with problems, why not now, too? _Hey Jyn, I’m in love with my sister, what should I do?_)

“When I said I loved you,” he starts. Stops. Takes a breath. “I didn’t mean I loved you like a sister,” he says.

It turns out he can make things worse, after all, because her face is shutting down and she’s turning away from him and - “Not like that!” he says, the words coming out in a rush. “No, Jyn, I – I love you, OK? That part wasn’t a lie.” She pauses, wary. “I just – it wasn’t a very brotherly sort of love.”

Her eyes are wide in the dim light. “What do you mean?”

He looks out over the city, keeping his eyes on the skyline. Watching the streets below always makes him feel like he’s lining up a shot. “I mean that my feelings for you weren’t appropriate,” he says.

It takes her a second to understand. And then, for the first time in his life, he sees Jyn actually speechless.

“I… you… since when??” she finally sputters.

He turns to look straight at her, and keeps his voice steady. “For a long time.”

“Everything was real,” he adds, seeing the hurt that she’s trying to hide. “Everything I told you, everything about our relationship. I never lied to you.” He pauses. “I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.” From the look on her face, he’s not sure she appreciates the distinction.

“You left because of that?” she asks, her voice cracking.

“Not only that,” he says carefully. “What I said about wanting to help, that was all true. It was a good opportunity.”

She turns away from him for a moment. “But that’s why you didn’t tell me you were going. That’s why you wouldn’t talk to me.” He hears her take a shuddering breath. When she turns back, her face is blank. “Because you wanted to fuck me?”

It physically hurts, hearing her reduce it to that. “Don’t make fun of me,” he warns, his voice tight. “It’s not – I _loved_ you. Yes, I was attracted to you, but that wasn’t… “ He pauses, breathing through the anger until he can speak calmly. “I needed some distance, yes. I needed some distance because I wanted to save our relationship. It wouldn’t have worked like that, with you seeing me as a brother, and me seeing you… It would have ended badly, OK?” She’s silent, and maybe he’s losing his touch, or maybe he just doesn’t know her as well as he did three years ago, but he genuinely can’t tell what she’s feeling.

“Damn it, Cassian, you could have just talked to me!” Oh. Anger; that’s what she was feeling. He should have known, really.

“No, I couldn’t, that would have ruined everything,” he says, stubborn to the last. “You would have been uncomfortable around me, and then instead of asking me to give you space you would have just avoided all of us. I wasn’t going to be the one to take your family away.”

“You don’t know that that’s what would have happened!”

Instead of answering, he brings a hand to her face, slowly. She’s barely breathing as he runs a finger down the skin of her cheek. She flinches, and he drops his hand immediately, his point made. And a new dose of self-loathing running through his veins. _This is enough of a shock, you idiot, she doesn’t need you hitting on her_, he berates himself.

He tries to smile, but he can’t seem to manage it. Damn it, he knew how she felt, but there’s still a big, dumb part of him that hurts to see it. “Wouldn’t it?” he asks. He swallows past the lump in his throat. “You should know I tried not to – to feel the way I do,” he says. “I know how wrong it is. I’m sorry.”

Her face is blank again, unmoved, and in the moonlight she could be an ancient goddess, come to pass judgement on him. He waits with bated breath for her verdict.

“Fight me.”

“- what?”

She takes a step towards him, shoulders tight, hands lose. “You just said you left me _for my own sake_, which is the single stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. I’m not going to hit you, because,” she switches to a fairly good impersonation of Chirrut, “hitting in anger leads to darkness. But,” she says, switching back to her own voice. “I would really like to spar with you.”

Her eyes are wide and her tone is innocent, and oh, he is _fucked_.

The last thing he wants to do right now is to hit her, even in practice. He’s hurt her enough for a lifetime.

He also doesn’t particularly want her to hit him. Jyn hits hard.

But on the other hand, how can he say no to anything she asks for, after what he’s done? After he made her relive all her old feelings of abandonment; after he let his stupid, selfish hormones rip their family apart?

Maybe this will help her feel better. He watches her carefully, trying to decide.

“Well? I haven’t got all night,” she says. “I have a party to get back to.”

“Can’t we talk about this?”

“Nope. Talking time is over. Sparring now.”

“I’m not saying I left to get away from you, that was just a bonus – “ Oh shit, was that ever the wrong thing to say; her face is thunderous and her hands are clenching into fists. “You know what, you’re right. Let’s spar.”

The words are barely out of his mouth and her fist is flying towards him.

Cassian’s not too worried about sparring with Jyn. She’s a good fighter, he knows, fearless and creative, and strong despite her deceptively slender build. But he has a childhood of street fights behind him, too, _and_ he’s passed the training for elite police officers in two countries. He’s very good.

It turns out that she’s better.

It takes her a couple minutes (and several hard blows to his ribs; he’s going to have a nasty set of bruises tomorrow), but she manages to knock him down. Before he can get up, she straddles him, her hips over his, her hands pinning his arms to either side. “I’ve been studying with Chirrut,” she says, breathing hard.

As she leans over him, smile triumphant, eyes bright with victory, he realizes three things.

First of all, he is not even a little bit over her. 

Second, he might have a bit of a … _thing_… for seeing her kick ass like this.

And third, well – with the way she’s positioned, she’s going to feel just how much of a thing he has sometime in the next few seconds. He tries to subtly reposition himself, but there’s only so much room to maneuver.

“Ok, you win, get up,” he says, trying desperately to keep his tone light. _For the love of fuck, stand up right now_, he thinks at her.

She doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t. Why should anything go right tonight?

He can see the exact moment she feels it. Emotions flit across her face – confusion, surprise, embarrassment. He closes his eyes against her expression, wishing he could disappear through sheer force of will. He swears the silence that follows lasts for an eternity. Planets could crumble to dust in the time they both sit there, motionless, each waiting for the other to react.

“Sorry,” he finally says, eyes still firmly closed.

Another eternity of silence passes. And then he feels something against his cheek, feather-light. His eyes open in surprise, and he sees Jyn’s face, much closer than he expected, her fingers trailing down his cheek in an echo of his ill-planned gesture earlier, her expression one of intense concentration.

“Jyn?”

She leans closer, then closer still.

For all that he’s imagined this moment a hundred times over, he doesn’t understand what’s happening until her lips touch his.


	4. I'm going to love you, anyway (Jyn)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Jyn has some thinking to do.

Jyn isn’t exactly the best at self care.

She’s getting better. Most days, she even remembers to eat breakfast. But when she gets swept up in something, she can still go for most of a day without eating or even drinking before something – usually Bodhi – reminds her. There’s nothing like the first glass of water, then, that feeling of, _yes, this, this is what I needed._

Kissing Cassian is kind of like that. A minute ago, she wasn’t planning to do this. Hell, a minute ago she still half wanted to punch him. But he looked so upset, and she’s missed him so much, and the pressure between her legs was giving her all kinds of new and interesting ideas…

And now, she doesn’t know how she’s managed to live without this for so long. It’s so good, so sweet, somehow exactly what she needed without even knowing.

“I’m still mad,” she manages to gasp between kisses.

“OK,” he says, mindless, his hand weaving into her hair to pull her closer. His lips are slightly chapped, the friction sending shivers down her spine, and when his tongue meets hers her head spins.

She gets lost, then, in the feel of his lips on hers, in the noises he makes when her hands slip under his shirt, in the taste of him. She could do this all night, all week. Forget the party, forget Bodhi –

She sits up, wrenching away from him with a gasp. Bodhi. Her brother. She looks at Cassian. _Their_ brother.

How the fuck is she going to explain this one to Bodhi? 

Cassian seems to come to his senses too. “Um. We should – “

“Right,” she breathes, scrambling to her feet. She offers him a hand without thinking, only to jolt in surprise at the contact. His hand is warm, and rough, and fits around hers so perfectly, and _holy mother of fuck_ where are all these feelings coming from?

She pauses at the entrance to the stairwell. “Are we…” she starts, then trails off, because _are we OK?_ is not the sentiment she’s going for here. “We should talk. Later,” she says, which is… not much better.

But Cassian nods as if she’s imparted great wisdom. “Yes. Later,” he repeats, looking dazed and worried and, if she’s not wrong, a little hopeful.

Time moves strangely back at the party. Sometimes she remembers the feel of Cassian’s body under hers, and five minutes seem to last forever.

Sometimes she remembers that when the party ends, they’re going to have to talk about this, and an hour slips away in a heartbeat, leaving her no closer to knowing what on earth she wants to say.

For the first time in her life, she’s glad to see Han getting Bodhi’s stupid karaoke game set up. It gives her a chance to properly panic about the whole thing, while pretending to listen to her friends’ awful singing.

She kissed _Cassian_. Her _brother_. That’s just wrong. Isn’t it?

… so then why did it feel so right? And why does she want to do it again?

It’s not often that Jyn finds herself wanting to talk about her feelings. But suddenly, she wishes she had someone to share this with. It’s too much for her alone; too many feelings, too many revelations flipping her world one way and then the other.

The problem is that as she looks around the room, she has no idea who she could possibly tell. Not Chirrut or Baze or Bodhi, that’s for damn sure; not until she knows what’s going on. Leia? Leia’s a good friend, but what would she know about a problem like this? What would any of them know?

Cassian would know, she thinks, and has to bite back a hysterical laugh. He would know exactly what she’s going through. She can just picture herself curling up against him on the couch like she used to do when she wanted to talk. _Hey Cassian, my brother just told me he used to be in love with me, and now I think I might be at least a little in love with him, but I don’t actually know if he wants to be with me or wants to get over me or what. Oh, and I also still want to punch him for being such a dumbass. What should I do? _

They aren’t siblings by blood. That seems like an important place to start. She’s never liked to think about it that way, because usually when people say _not your biological family_ they mean _not your _real_ family_, and she’ll be damned if she lets anyone suggest her family is anything less than completely, 100% hers.

But suddenly, _foster siblings_ isn’t a limitation. It’s a possibility.

She chews her lip. A lot of people might still find it disturbing, though. What will her friends say? What will Chirrut and Baze say?

In the next moment, she realizes she doesn’t care. She trusts Bodhi and Chirrut to – well, not to be happy, necessarily, but at least to trust her. Baze… Baze would come around eventually.

As for the rest of the world – she might still be more than a little angry with Cassian, but if it’s the rest of the world or him, she’s picking him.

Right. Next question, then – what does she want?

She knows that if she tells Cassian she wants to keep things as they were, he’d say yes. He ran away to a foreign country rather than hit on her, for fuck’s sake. That is not the sign of a man who’s planning to be pushy about this.

But now she’s not so sure she wants things to be the way they were. It’s been – she looks past an air-guitar-strumming Han to peek at Bodhi’s clock – two and a half hours since she kissed him, and not only can she not stop thinking about it, she can’t stop picturing more. She can’t stop wondering what his hands would feel like against her bare skin, what sounds he would make if she –

“ERSO!!!”

She snaps her head up to see Leia waving at her, practically in her face, with Han, Bodhi and Chewie laughing behind her. “I called your name like five times,” she says. “Come on, you’re up.”

Jyn takes her place at the front of the room – it’s faster this way, she knows better than to think she could win an argument with Leia – but blanches when she sees the list of songs. “Like a prayer”? “Since you’ve been gone”? _“Let’s get it on”_?? Her eyes flick to Cassian, sitting in the corner next to Melshi and carefully not looking at her, and she feels heat rush to her face.

“No love songs,” she blurts, and Leia looks at her, startled. “No love, or sex, or – yeah.”

“Why on earth not?”

Jyn tries to think fast. “Because of… umm… the breakup. You know, I used to be dating Brice?” Leia gives her a skeptical look. “I’m just not ready for that kind of thing yet.”

“You mean that tall, weirdly angry-looking guy you dated for all of two weeks, almost a year ago?” Leia asks. “The one who you dumped because he was a misogynistic asshole?”

“Umm… yes?”

Leia folds her arms across her chest. “Wasn’t his name ‘Reece’?”

Oh shit, it _was_ Reece. “It’s my birthday, I should get to pick my song,” she says quickly, and makes her choice before Leia can object.

She makes it through CeeLo Green’s “Fuck You” to the background of her friends’ good-natured teasing, and Leia’s constant suspicious glances. Damn it. Cassian kept his feelings for her secret from everyone for _six years_, and she’s already fucking it up in the first three hours.

She takes a seat when the song is over, and lets her thoughts wander back in his direction.

Beyond the question of whether she wants to kiss him again (or run her hands over his chest, or beg him to fuck her into her mattress, or _her brain needs to stop, seriously_), there is also the minor issue of how she is still furious with him.

She’s not actually going to punch him. Anymore. Bodhi may be right that she’s a little quick to resort to violence, at times, but she would never hit a friend, let alone someone she’s dating. There are lines.

But she’s still angry, and she has no idea what to do with that. He cut her out of his life for _three years_. How can she ever forgive that?

It’s too much. Too many questions, and too few answers. She’s never been good at this. Cassian was always the one who spent ages thinking things through from every angle. She’s always preferred to just go with her gut instinct.

She slumps down, her head falling into her hand, and lets her mind go blank. And finds herself remembering a winter afternoon six years earlier.

*

Jyn wrapped her jacket tighter around her shoulders, cursing her past self for her stupidity. Who the hell ran away from Chicago in the winter and went _north_? Fuck, she was freezing already, and she was still on the damn bus.

She wouldn’t be able to change direction for a while, either. She was down to her last two hundred dollars. She had to stop soon, while she could still afford a couple weeks’ worth of food.

She shivered, and felt her teeth start to chatter.

Maybe food wasn’t her first priority, after all. She would buy a jacket first. She could always get food some other way.

It was Thursday. Baze had said he would make wonton soup on Thursday, she remembered. He always taped the weekly meal schedule to the refrigerator door on Monday morning. _It’s convenient_, he insisted, but she knew he’d only started the habit after he found the cans of food she’d hidden at the back of her closet.

She hadn’t said goodbye to him. Or to anyone. Guilt twisted in her stomach, heavy and hot. _It’s easier this way_, she told herself. They would realize, eventually, that it was for the best. Maybe someday they would even forgive her.

Cassian, though… what she’d done to him could never be forgiven.

He had figured it out, because of course he had. He’d been waiting for her at the bus station. And she… Her eyes filled with tears, remembering. She’d said terrible things to him. It would have been one thing if she’d just raged and cursed, but no. She had lashed out at his weakest spots, saying exactly what she knew it would most hurt him to hear. If she closed her eyes, she could still see his face, pale and shaken and so _disappointed_.

It turned out “misery loves company” was bullshit, because seeing her pain reflected in his eyes had only made everything a thousand times worse. But it had distracted him long enough to let her make her escape, dodging between commuters and jumping on the first bus that she saw preparing to pull out.

It had been an awful, awful thing to do to someone who had been so kind to her. To someone who was supposed to be family.

But that was how she was. She hurt her friends. She ruined everything she touched.

Maybe that was why her own father hadn’t bothered with her.

The bus came to a stop in a dingy, run-down station somewhere north of Milwaukee. She wasn’t even sure where, anymore. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, not the cold or the slate-gray clouds promising snow, not her hunger, not the worried glances she got as she stumbled off the bus in her thin coat and ripped jeans.

She hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder and looked around, considering her options. There was a burger restaurant just across the street. That was good. If she came back after closing, they might have thrown away perfectly good food.

The man who’d sat across from her on the bus was still sending glances in her direction, maybe out of concern, maybe something worse. Her hand went to the knife under her waistband, relieved to find it still there.

And then there, in the shadows, was –

… Seriously??

Yup, definitely Cassian. She felt it, even before he stepped out into the dull winter light, confirming what she already knew.

How had he found her?? She’d been so careful.

And who the hell did he think he was? She was almost seventeen. If she wanted to leave, she could damn well leave. She didn’t need him tracking her down (and wasn’t he supposed to be back in school by now, anyway? She shoved back a flash of guilt at the thought that he was missing classes for this).

She stormed over, planning to say whatever it took to get him out of her life once and for all.

Instead, she took one look at his face and burst into tears.

He wrapped his arms around her as she cried, big, messy sobs like she hadn’t cried since she was a child. Passersby glanced in her direction, and he held her tighter, shielding her from their curiosity. “You’re OK,” he murmured, “I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said into his chest, her voice high and thin. “I’m sorry, Cass, I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, it’s OK.”

She didn’t know how long it took her to stop crying. It felt like forever. When her sobs had subsided to hiccups, he looped an arm over her shoulders, and led her to a nearby bench under an overhang. She dropped onto the seat, suddenly bone tired, letting her backpack fall to her feet. Cassian dropped his own duffel bag, and pulled out her winter coat, wordlessly tucking it around her shoulders.

She waited for him to ask why she’d run, but he just sat down next to her and looked over the near-empty station. Maybe that’s why she found herself telling him.

“I overheard Chirrut on the phone,” she said. “Talking about my father.”

He just nodded, and waited.

“I know he’s dead.”

Another nod. “Chirrut told me,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” she whispered. Confessed. “I’m not sorry he’s dead.” She stole a glance at his face, but he didn’t look horrified, just sympathetic.

“I… “ Her eyes were stinging. “He was supposed to be dead eight years ago!” she said, the words bursting out of her. “He was… I thought…” And now she was crying again. Damn it. She wiped angrily at the tears with the back of her hand, and he silently passed her a tissue. “I thought he wasn’t with me because he couldn’t be with me. Because he was dead.” Her voice was small as she added, “I thought he wanted me.”

Over the past year and a half, she’d come to know Cassian’s silences very well. The silence after her outburst, as she hiccupped and leaked tears and he rubbed small circles into her back, was his _not going to say it_ silence. She had grown intimately familiar with it over the summer, when she was dating that idiot Embo.

She was glad for it now. She knew, intellectually, that what her father did was wrong. She knew that if Bodhi’s father, or Cassian’s, had done the same, she’d have plenty to say about it.

But she wasn’t ready to hear a word against him. He was her poppa. She _loved_ him.

Eventually, she managed to stop crying. She let her head fall onto Cassian’s shoulder, and felt him let out a long breath.

“How did you find me?” She’d thought she’d covered her tracks fairly well. She’d dyed her hair, and spent a third of her meagre stash of money buying tickets she never used, just to cover her tracks.

His mouth twitched as if he was fighting back a smile. “Remember that guy you punched in the dick at a Dunkin Donuts in Madison?”

“He deserved it,” she said automatically. “He was being a racist asshole to the cashier.”

“I know, it was all in the police report. It, ahh – it kind of stood out.” She looked over. He was definitely trying not to smile.

They sat there for a while, the silence now a comfortable one.

“I should call Baze,” he suddenly said, looking guilty. “They’ll want to know I’ve found you.”

“Where are they?” She found she couldn’t remember, anymore, what had made her so anxious to get away. Suddenly, all she wanted was to see her family again.

“Looking for you,” he said matter-of-factly.

She should feel guilty, she knew. Instead, she felt a bubble of warmth in her chest. “I thought they’d just report me missing,” she mumbled, kicking at the asphalt.

“Chirrut felt that the police weren’t giving your case sufficient attention,” he said. “There may have been words exchanged, at the precinct.”

She smiled despite herself. “I wish I could have seen that.”

“Are you ready to come back?” he asked gently.

She looked away, twisting her hands in her sleeves. “Why would you want me back?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“I said awful things to you.” She pulled at the fabric, afraid to look him in the face. “I didn’t mean any of it. You know that, right?”

“Hey. Look at me.” He gently turned her to face him. “You’re my family Jyn. You know what that means?” She shook her head, and he smiled, a sweet smile that lit up his face and made him look his age for once. “It means you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

She took a shaky breath and attempted a smile of her own. Cassian looped an arm over her shoulders.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll buy you a burger before we go home.”

*

“Are you crying?” Leia’s voice shakes her out of her reverie. Jyn blinks. Huh. Her eyes are a little damp.

“It’s just the song,” she says. “Gets me every time.”

Leia looks to the front of the room, where Luke and Lando are floundering their way through “Baby got back,” and then back to Jyn. “Uh-huh,” she says, dragging the word out. She gives her a concerned look. “Is everything OK? You’re acting strange tonight.”

“Quarter-life crisis, I guess,” Jyn says absently. She stands. “Actually, I’m pretty tired. Can you cover for me, if I leave?”

“Sure.” Leia watches her carefully. “You sure you’re OK?”

“Don’t worry about me,” she says. “Cassian will walk me home.”


	5. And I know that you feel it too (Jyn)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here there be smut

She’s absurdly nervous as she stands to leave, as she lets her gaze wander to Cassian for the first time in an hour. Fortunately, he understands immediately, giving the tiniest of nods and then standing to get his jacket.

It’s not weird that she’s leaving, she tells herself. It’s late. Admittedly, it’s a couple hours earlier than she would normally leave – but still, late.

It’s not weird that Cassian is coming with her, either. He’s her – OK, she doesn’t know what he is, right now, but whatever it is, it definitely involves being close enough to walk each other home. Which is the smart thing to do, at this hour, in a city this size. It’s not weird.

Even if her apartment is in the same building. 

It’s hard to sneak out of your own birthday party without being noticed, but Jyn thinks she does a fairly good job of it. Of course, that’s probably mostly thanks to Han’s moonshine, coupled with the way he and Chewie are currently caterwauling ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’ They’re definitely holding everyone’s attention. Everyone’s but hers and Cassian’s.

The door closes behind them, and she can feel her heart racing in the sudden silence.

“I live just down the hall,” she says, silently begging him not to comment. She’s a bit too sensitive about it, she knows. Leia once teasingly called her and Bodhi codependent, and she didn’t talk to her for a week.

Whether he senses that she’s on edge or just approves of the arrangement, he nods. They walk the rest of the way without speaking, the only sounds the scuff of their shoes against the cheap flooring and the pounding of her blood in her ears.

The second the door of her apartment closes behind them, she pushes him against it and brings her lips to his. She has to try this again, she has to know.

He’s… not unresponsive, exactly, but reserved; letting her take what she wants without giving anything in return.

She pulls away a moment later, lips tingling and light of breath. “Not a fluke,” she mutters.

“Glad to hear it,” he replies. His tone is serious, but she can see the faint crinkles of amusement around his eyes.

She leans in again, but then, unbelievably, he moves aside. She frowns. Now that he’s made her realize just how much she likes kissing him, she really hopes he's not having second thoughts. “What?”

“Please,” he says, and she listens, because she’s never been able to say no when he gives her that look. “I just need you to know that whatever you want, it’s OK. You can always decide you don’t want this. Now, any time, no hard feelings. I’m – I’m not leaving again, unless you want me to. No matter what.”

She finds herself swallowing back a lump in her throat. “OK.” She clears her throat. “Actually, there’s something I need to say, too.”

He raises an eyebrow in question, then grunts as she collides with him, wrapping her arms around his chest in a tight hug.

“Jyn? What are you –“

She presses her face into his chest. “Just doing what I should have done four hours ago,” she says. His arms wrap around her, and suddenly she feels lighter, three years of dread melting away. “I missed you like crazy,” she says into his chest. “And – “ she takes a deep breath “- you were right to go.”

She feels his arms stiffen in surprise. Hell, she’s surprised at herself. She hasn’t allowed herself to say the words for three years, hasn’t even allowed herself to _think_ them. But somehow now, with her anger muddied with relief and desire and something more, they slip out as if it’s simple.

“You should have _told_ me,” she continues, “and you should have talked to me, and you shouldn’t have let me think you didn’t care because that _really hurt_.” She shudders just thinking about it, and he rests his chin on her head. “And you had better not do that to me ever again.”

“Never,” he murmurs into her hair.

She nods. “Good. But you were right to go. What you did – that was amazing.”

He makes a noise that’s half-laugh, half sob. “You don’t even know what I did.”

“No,” she agrees. “But I know who you are.” She tilts her head so she can see him, and he looks back, a little awed, a little lost. “You’ll tell me the rest when you’re ready.”

He strokes her hair lightly, watching her with a look that sends heat right to her toes. But he doesn’t lean down, damn it. This might be a problem. She’s never wished she were just a little bit taller more than now.

She’ll just have to get him in a bed. Then it won’t matter how much taller he is.

He’s watching her carefully, and she knows that he’s tracking every tiny change in her expression. “How long has it been, for you? Have you ever thought about this before? About us? Because we shouldn’t – we shouldn’t take this too fast.”

“I don’t know,” she says, honest. She sees his jaw clench. “I just – I knew that…” She takes a deep breath, “That I loved you. I never really thought about how. I mean, I knew my feelings for you were different from how I feel with Bodhi, but you’re different people.”

His hand pauses. “How do you feel with Bodhi?”

She thinks about it. “Bodhi’s safe,” she decides. It’s high praise. She’s met very few people she could ever imagine trusting with everything – her hopes, her fears, her life itself – but Bodhi is definitely one of them.

“And me?” he asks softly.

She closes her eyes. This is almost too much, more intimate than being naked before him. “You’re home,” she says.

“Jyn.” And then his lips are on hers, soft but steady, sending waves of heat through her. “Is this OK?” he murmurs against her lips.

In response, she grabs his hair and pulls him closer, opening her mouth to his. He responds eagerly, and for a delicious moment there is nothing in the world but the two of them and the energy between them, the energy that sparks anew every time his lips meet hers, every time his hands move across her skin.

Then he pulls away, his forehead resting against hers. “We should take this slow,” he gasps.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s like you’ve never met me.” At his questioning look, she adds, “Come on, Cassian. Have I ever taken anything slow in my life?”

“Well, no, but – “

“I know how I feel,” she says, cutting him off. “And I know what I want. Do you?”

“I touched you earlier,” he says, his breath unsteady. “And you flinched.”

“Yes, well, it was strange,” she says, hearing the defensiveness in her tone. “You touched me, and it felt _really good_, and I wasn’t ready for that.”

“And now you are?”

She shrugs. “I’m a fast learner.” He looks skeptical. “We don’t all need to think things over for six years, you know.”

He closes his eyes, and she can practically feel him overthinking this. From this close, she can see new lines on his face, and a couple of tiny scars across his cheek. She traces each with her thumbs, as if committing the changes to memory.

She doesn’t know how to make him see that this isn’t just a whim for her. This isn’t a change of mind; it’s a total shift in perspective. Earlier, on the rooftop… it was like finding the answer to a riddle, or the picture within a picture. One of those things which, once discovered, can never be unseen.

She can’t look at him now, and not see that his lips, so familiar, could be on hers; that the same bodies that give comfort could give pleasure, too; she can’t not see the potential for _more_.

She’s always wanted more from him. More time together, more of his smiles, more touch. Every time he ended a phone call, every time she ended a hug, there was always a stupid, small ache that she never felt with any of the rest of them.

She thought it was because they were so alike, because she understands him so well; almost as well as he understands her. Now she’s starting to think that maybe it was more than that.

“I don’t want to do anything you’re going to regret,” he says.

“Good,” she answers, letting her hands fall to his chest. “Because I’m starting to regret how many clothes we’re wearing, so it’s good to know we’re going to fix that.”

“_Jyn,_” he says, but his lips are turning up at the corners. She likes this kind of smile the most, she thinks, the kind she coaxes out of him even when he’s trying to be too serious.

She likes it so much she pulls him down to kiss one corner of his mouth, and then the other, and this time he lets her. And then his lips are on hers again, hot and eager, while her hands steal under the hemline of his shirt, seeking more.

She _knew_ he didn’t want to take this slow any more than she does.

It’s her who leads him to the bedroom, a few minutes later, but he follows eagerly.

“Are you sure?” he asks quietly, as she kicks off her shoes.

“Cassian,” she murmurs, trailing a line of kisses down his throat. “Suggest I’m not sure one more time, and I’m going to tie you to the bed.”

“That, ahh,” he groans as she keeps kissing her way down his body. “That doesn’t exactly sound like a threat.” His breath stutters and catches, and she grins against his stomach before shoving him backward onto the mattress. He goes willingly, laughing.

The truth is, there is a small part of her that’s still waiting for something about this to feel wrong. If not for her, then for him. This is Cassian. Cassian, who used to drive her home from school, who she introduced as her brother to all of her friends.

But it never happens. It all feels so natural, so _right_, even as they fall into bed, as her fingers trace the outline of his cock through his boxers, as his tongue circles her nipple.

"This all feels like a dream," he murmurs against her skin, his body hovering just above hers. It takes her a moment to realize he said it in Spanish. _Oh right_, she realizes, in the part of her brain still capable of rational thought, _he doesn't know_. After all, she last saw him in freshman year. That was five semesters of Spanish ago.

"This is real," she answers, kissing his shoulder, and his head jerks up, his eyes coming to hers. She grins, sheepish. 

It was worth all five semesters, just to see the look on his face.

"This is real," she says again, "I'm here, and I love you."

He drops his face to the base of her neck, but not before she sees the tears shining in his eyes. She gives him a second, and then, "I should clarify that I mean that in an extremely non-sisterly way."

"Brat," he mutters, pinching her side, but she can feel him smiling. She turns her head, her lips seeking his, needing to feel him, and he responds eagerly.

His hands are perfect, rough against her skin, but she likes that. He’s patient, though, too patient, and she finds herself writhing and moaning and begging for release.

Finally, _finally_, her whispered, “Cassian, _please_,” does the trick, and he’s pushing into her, and she can’t help another long moan, because _fuck_ does that feel good.

“You OK?” he asks, his face an inch from hers, arms trembling with the effort of holding himself in place.

“I will be once you start moving,” she answers, wrapping her legs around his waist.

He does, thank the stars, and she does her best to match his pace. It’s frantic, and messy, and glorious. He’s everywhere, above her, inside her, and she’s building toward something so strong that it feels as though she’s sure to explode. Her body acts on instinct, pulling him closer, deeper.

He kisses her, their bodies intertwined twice over, and that’s what pushes her over the edge, her climax hitting so fast and strong that only his mouth over hers keeps her from waking up the neighbors.

“_Fuck_, Jyn,” he says, voice strangled, and she pulls him down for another kiss, and soon it’s him shouting his release.

She stays at his side, after, still buzzing with energy but unable to move away from him. She finds herself running her hands up his arms, across his chest, her fingers like explorers mapping new land. He watches her, eyes bright under heavy lids, and the feeling in her chest is tender and solid, familiar and new.

The strange thing about waking up next to Cassian is how completely not strange it is.

There’s no moment of panic, when she remembers the night before. No embarrassment at the things they did. No sudden urge to run when she thinks of the things she said, or the way he saw her desperate in a way no one has before.

She turns to look at him, moving carefully so she won’t dislodge his arm from where it sits, looped around her waist. In the pale morning light he looks young, and painfully thin, and so beautiful it makes her chest ache.

She hates to move away from the warm bed, but she also hates morning breath, so.

She almost makes it out the door, but then the stupid floor creaks and his eyes fly open, his hand reaching under the pillow. She watches a range of emotions flit across his face in the space of a breath – panic, confusion, realization, joy, worry. The worry fades as he turns and sees her. She stifles a smile at the way his hair looks, tufts sticking out in every direction.

“Hey,” he croaks. He looks tired, she thinks. Her fault, really, for keeping him up most of the night.

Not for sex. At least, not after that first time. Not that she didn’t want to.

But there was something else she’d needed more. And Cassian understood without her even asking, and he’d done his best to give it to her. He must have talked for nearly three hours, telling her about the people he’d met, the things he’d seen. And some of the things he’d done, too, although she hadn’t pushed, and when his voice began to tremble she’d silenced him with soft hands. He would tell her when he was ready.

His worried look returns in the face of her silence. “Are you OK?” he asks, his tone just a little too light, and _oh_. He thought she was leaving.

It occurs to her suddenly that she's not the only one who’s a little too slow, sometimes, to believe that people might want her around, let alone need her. She's not the only one who's oh so quick to believe the worst.

“Fine,” she says, lying back down by his side. “And you?”

He exhales, shaky. “I’m not sure there are words for it,” he says. But he’s smiling, so whatever the missing words are, they must be good ones.

“No regrets?” she asks, just to be sure.

His face goes solemn, then, in that way he has. “Never.”

“Good,” she says, then throws one leg over him quick as breathing so that she’s straddling his hips. His eyebrows fly up, but he doesn’t comment.

She watches him, smirking, and he stares back, his lips a flat line.

“What?”

He looks at her as if he’s trying to imprint her on his memory. “Just still trying to understand how you’re so sure about this. I had years to get used to the idea, and you just… Not that I’m complaining,“ he adds quickly.

_I guess I just think faster_, she almost says, but she pushes back the instinct to make this a joke. She feels exposed with Cassian, vulnerable, but she also feels, for once, like that might not be something to run away from.

“The only thing I might have worried about was ruining what we have,” she says. “And nothing can ruin what we have. You’re my… my person,” she finishes, lamely.

He raises an eyebrow. “That sounded almost romantic.” He’s teasing her, she knows, or pretends to be, but his tone is soft.

“Yeah, well. Tell anyone and I’ll kill you.”

His smile is sweet and carefree and all hers. “You’re my person, too, you know.”

She refuses to blush.

He goes back to studying her, looking oddly hesitant, almost shy. It’s a strange look, with the way she feels him hardening under her, with the way his fingers are digging into her hips.

“Wondering what I have planned for you, Captain?” she asks. She’s very proud of herself for getting him to admit at some point last night that he was an actual, ranking police officer – and she’s planning to put the information to good use.

His face stays neutral, but she feels his cock twitch against her thigh. She really does love this position. So _informative_.

“Well,” she says. “I’m planning to shower and brush my teeth. Then, I’m planning to fuck you against half the surfaces in this apartment.” Even his face shows his interest, now. “Then you’re making me breakfast.”

“And then?” he asks, voice rough.

She gives him her most innocent smile. “Then the other half.”

“Tharwashm ha,” she informs him over breakfast, her mouth full of delicious pancakes. His cooking is somehow even better than before.

He just raises an eyebrow.

She swallows. “I said, that wasn’t half.”

“Bed, couch, and wall. That leaves your chair, the coffee table, and the floor.” He frowns. “I’m not sure that coffee table can take our weight.”

“You’re forgetting two.”

“As much as I love it when you get creative, I don’t think we can actually fuck on the ceiling.”

“Very funny,” she says, raising two fingers. “Kitchen counter, and shower.”

“Two things. One: eww, no, we eat here,” he says, raising a finger. Her heart flips at the _we_. “And two, your shower is about the size of a postage stamp.”

“We could make it work.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He pushes his plate away. “We have other things we should do today, too.”

“Like what?”

“Like, well,” He gives her a look that’s almost shy. “This isn’t a one-time thing, right?”

“You mean a four-time thing?”

“Jyn.”

“Of course it isn’t, you idiot.”

“Good.” He looks at the table, suddenly looking vaguely sick. “Then we need to tell them.”

There’s no question as to which “them” he means. “It’s OK, Cass. It might be weird for them at first, but they’ll come around.”

“Easy for you to say,” he says. “You’re not the one who has to tell Baze that you've been defiling his favorite daughter."

She makes a face at him. “Don’t be such a caveman. I did plenty of defiling, too.”

He smirks briefly. “That you did." Then his face falls back into despair. "Seriously, Jyn."

She moves her chair closer, their legs bumping together, and hooks her pinky through his. "I'll be there, too. We'll work it out." She pauses. “And it’s not like we have to tell them everything right away. We’ll… ease into it.”

Cassian looks skeptical. “Fine. But you tell Baze. It’ll be easier for you, you’re his favorite.”

"I’ll just remind him that this way, he'll only have to attend two weddings, not three. He hates parties, he’ll like that," she says without thinking, and then freezes.

Holy mother of fuck, what was that? She has never, ever pushed a boyfriend to commit. Men push her to commit (and the moment they do, she’s out the door). She's always been the one happy to keep it casual, and here she is practically proposing to Cassian after their first night together.

They haven't even gone out for coffee yet.

He’s silent, and she can feel her face burning. Suddenly, running away to Mexico doesn't sound like such a bad idea.

But then she steals a glance at him and he's full-on grinning, the smile lighting up his whole face. "Yeah," he says, ducking his head. "Good idea.”

It turns out the shower is big enough, if they get creative.

It takes a while - almost until the wedding day itself - but eventually Baze agrees that it's much more convenient this way.


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four short stories from various points before and after the main story. The first three are G-rated, the fourth is basically pure smut.

**(Three weeks earlier – Bodhi)**

“Ok she’s coming… just a second… “ he whispers into the phone.

_“Wait – really? I can’t believe you were serious about that,” _Leia says from the other end.

“So I was thinking the seventh,” he says, just loud enough to be overheard from the hallway. “For Jyn’s party. What do you think, should we start at seven, or at eight?”

_“Every time I think I’m starting to understand the two of you - “_

“You’re right, eight is better,” he says. “That will give everyone time to get ready after work.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the door to Jyn’s room close.

“OK, she’s gone,” he whispers.

_“You know, some people think surprise parties should actually be a surprise. Strange, I know.”_

“Jyn hates surprises.” He opens the fridge door and frowns at the nearly-empty shelves. Does his sister ever eat anything that she didn’t buy off a food cart? He probably doesn’t want to know the answer to that, he decides.

_“So just tell her you’re throwing her a party.”_

“If I tell her I’m throwing her a party, she’ll insist that I cancel it.” A quick search of the cupboards reveals a half-eaten package of stale crackers and a box of tea. “Trust me, this is the only way.”

_“If you say so.”_ He hears the rustle of papers on her end. _“Glad to do my part, then.”_

“You’re the best, Leia.”

_“Aww. I know you’re just saying that because you want to get in my brother’s pants, but still. Sweet of you.”_

“What?? No! I don’t – I mean – who told you that? Because that’s, that’s not… Luke and I are sparring partners, not – “

_“Uh-huh,”_ she says, dry. _“So if he asks me if you might be interested, I take it the answer is ‘no’?”_

“I didn’t say that!” he says, straightening so fast he nearly slams his elbow into the counter. “Wait – did he ask you… ?”

Leia cackles in his ear. _“Bye, Bodhi!”_

“Wait – !” The call ends. “Damn it,” he mutters, just as Jyn strolls in, her hair still damp from her shower.

“So what are you making?”

He waves at her fridge in frustration. “What am I supposed to make out of three stale crackers, half a tub of yogurt and a rotten cabbage?”

She shrugs. “You're the one who offered to cook. I thought we should just go find a food truck, remember?”

“Nope. Nononono,” he says, shaking his head. “You are not eating another preservative-laden hot dog on my watch. We'll just do this at my place.”

She grins. “You’re the best, Bodhi.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

**(Three weeks later – Baze)**

It’s strange to think that there was a time he wasn’t sure about her.

Not that he had had anything against Jyn herself. But – she was a girl. His life had taken him from a house with three younger brothers, to an all-male monastic order, to Chirrut and their new life together. Sure, he could talk to women – in the context of teaching them which parts of the male body were most vulnerable to a good, strong punch – but raising a teenaged girl?

But Chirrut had insisted they try, and it didn’t take him long to realize that Jyn was going to become one of the best parts of his life.

It’s not that she’s his favorite. Baze loves each of his children, he really does. But if he did have a favorite… if he did, it would definitely be Jyn.

He would like to say that she’s like him. She certainly has his mistrust, his hard edges, his blunt nature, his urge to fight injustice head-on whatever the cost. But the truth is, she’s better than him. She’s him, if he still smiled easily and often. Him, if he was still able to find something beautiful in every moment. Him, if he had never lost his hope.

Underneath her scowl and her callused knuckles, Jyn still has so much hope. And Baze would do almost anything to make sure she never loses it.

Which is what has him unsettled even now, as they prepare for bed, Chirrut laying out his clothes for the next day while Baze puts away the laundry.

“You’re not happy,” Chirrut notes.

“Of course I’m happy,” he says, automatic.

“The children were over for dinner.”

He fights the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that somehow, his partner will notice if he does. “I know, Chirrut, I was there.”

“You’re usually happier than this, when the children come for dinner.”

Baze takes his time arranging the clean clothes in the drawers. He shouldn’t mention his worries, he knows. It will sound petty and unkind. Hell, it sounds bad even to him.

But he’s known Chirrut since he was ten years old, and after 35 years, he’s not in the habit of keeping things to himself anymore. He’s not sure he even _could_. He honestly thinks Chirrut may be psychic.

“I just don’t like the way he looks at her,” he says, knowing Chirrut knows exactly who he means.

Chirrut clicks his tongue. “Now, Baze. There’s nothing wrong with the way he looks at her.”

He gives in and rolls his eyes. “And how would you know?”

“Of course I know,” Chirrut says, lowering himself slowly onto the bed. “He looks at her like she hung the moon and the stars.”

He snorts. “You’re not wrong,” he grudgingly admits. “Although I wouldn’t put it that way. Leave poetry to the poets.”

“Cassian’s a good man,” Chirrut says, a slight tone of reproach creeping into his voice. “Let him love her, Baze. Lord knows this world could use all the love it can get.”

Baze sighs. “I know that. And it’s not… you know I love him, too.” He scowls at the pair of socks in his hand. “But he’s got a darkness in him.”

“Hmm. Sounds like someone else I know.”

He feels his scowl intensify. Why does Chirrut have to be so damn perceptive?

Chirrut’s not wrong, he knows. Cassian is Baze, if Baze had the patience to wait for the right moment to strike instead of running in head-first. Him, if he had the ability to lie, or to lose a battle in order to win the war.

It scares him a little to think what a younger version of himself could have done with those abilities.

He grips the edge of the dresser a little too hard. “What if he hurts her?” The question comes out softer than he means it to, as if he were a child asking for assurance that the monsters won’t get him.

Cassian would never hurt Jyn on purpose, he knows. He also knows what her voice sounded like on the phone, the day he left. He knows the look in her eye when she came back for Thanksgiving vacation that year. Lost and empty; as close to hopeless as he’s ever seen her.

Chirrut sighs. “You know there are no guarantees in this life,” he says, suddenly sounding like the old man he likes to say he is. “For what it’s worth,” he adds, “I don’t think it’s very likely.”

Baze draws a deep breath. “You’re right,” he says. “I’m probably reading too much into it, anyway. It’s just the look on his face. It’s not like they’re together.”

Chirrut just hums under his breath as Baze makes his way to the bed.

He sits down with a sigh. “This is where you tell me I’m being ridiculous, and there’s nothing to worry about.” The silence that follows feels loud as a hurricane. “Chirrut??”

“Hmm? Oh, sorry, I must have drifted off. I’m getting old, you know.”

Baze glares at him, and the corners of Chirrut’s mouth turn up. “You know what I said,” Baze insists. “Is there anything to worry about there, or not?”

Chirrut settles his head against the pillow. “Tell me, Baze. How does our Jyn look, when she looks at him?”

_You tell me_, he almost says, but he bites it back. “Happy,” he says, grudgingly. And then, quietly, “As if he’s all she wants in the universe.”

“Now who sounds like a poet?”

“Quiet, old man.”

“In any case,” Chirrut says, turning out the light. “It sounds like there’s nothing to worry about.”

**(7.5 years earlier – Jyn)**

Jyn made her way down the hallway quietly, tiptoeing around the creaky board outside Chirrut and Baze’s room. Everyone else had been asleep for hours.

She should be sleeping too, she knew. But the internet was so interesting, and anyway, there was no point in going to bed at a normal hour. It always took her ages to fall asleep no matter what she did.

She was halfway to her room when she heard something that made the hair on her arms stand on end.

It was just a whimper. Just a single small, broken sound. She’d definitely heard worse.

But it was coming from _Cassian_. Cassian, who looked as if it would take, at a minimum, nuclear armageddon to shake the bored expression off his face. Cassian, who had once cut himself on the broken back door and not made a single sound, leaving them to notice only three hours later that half his sleeve was red with blood.

Just the idea of something scaring him into making that lost, awful noise was enough to take the air from her lungs.

When he whimpered again, she rushed into his room before she could think better of it.

He came awake immediately, his body motionless but his eyes open, gleaming with reflected light. He tensed, then squinted at her and blinked. “Jyn?”

She shifted her weight from foot to foot. _Shit_. Now what?

He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His eyes were sleepy, his t-shirt was at least three sizes too large on him, and his hair was sticking up in every direction. If he were anyone else, she might say he looked adorable.

He squinted again as the light hit his eyes, and she kicked the door halfway closed, casting his bed back into shadow. “Jyn? What’s wrong?”

_You had a nightmare_. But she couldn’t tell him that.

It wasn’t that she was afraid of him. She saw the way he treated Bodhi. Nobody who could be that gentle could be all bad.

But he’d barely talked to her until last month. Hell, the first few weeks, only the way his mouth tightened at the corners when she teased him had given away the fact that he spoke English. When he’d offered her a stick of gum two months ago, she’d almost fallen out of her chair.

She’d come close to giving up on him. But then last month, something changed. To the point where the other day, he’d been drawn into arguing Marvel versus DC with her and Bodhi for most of an hour. She’d had to bite her cheek to hide her smile from him, afraid to do anything that might scare him off.

If she told him she knew he had nightmares, he’d shut down again. Shut her out. She knew, because that was exactly what she would do, in his position. And she didn’t want that. It turned out she liked talking to him.

He was looking at her, his expression increasingly concerned. “Are you OK?”

There was only one thing to do. She looked at her feet, and swallowed. “I had a nightmare,” she said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just – didn’t know where to go.”

He sat up straight, eyes widening. “It’s fine, you – I wasn’t quite asleep, anyway.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing. _Liar_. He moved to one side, making room for her on the bed. “You want to talk about it?” he offered.

She should go, she knew. She was definitely going to hell if she let him comfort her after _his_ nightmare.

But there was something special about seeing him like this, sleep-rumpled, his defenses down. It was as if she’d been knocking on a door for five months, peering around its edges, only to have it suddenly swing wide open. She should walk away – but she wasn’t going to.

She sat down next to him. “I’d rather not talk about it,” she said, looking down. Her scraped, knobby knees stuck out from the bottom of her sleep shorts, brushed against his legs in their too-large sweatpants. “Can I just – sit here for a minute?”

“Stay as long as you’d like. It’s no bother, really.” If she didn’t know better, she might almost think he was blushing. “You could lie down here for a while, if you want. There’s plenty of room.”

There was a warm, soft feeling in her chest. _Don’t be stupid_, she told herself. It wasn’t like her nightmare had even been real.

Still. She wouldn’t have thought Cassian could be so sweet. His eyes were wide and dark in the dim light from the hallway, and his face was open, no hard edges on show. 

“OK,” she said softly, letting herself relax onto the bed. She’d wait until he fell back asleep, then move to her own room.

There was something nice about resting next to him, she thought drowsily, as his breaths grew deeper beside her. It reminded her of the months she’d spent with Codo, before he OD’d, when they used to watch each other’s backs at night. She always had slept easier with someone else at her back.

She woke up seven hours later, to the feel of Cassian gently shaking her shoulder. “Jyn, hey, time to wake up.”

Her eyes came open immediately. Shit, had she been there all night?

“Sleep well?” he asked, watching her. And for half a second, his usual unreadable expression was replaced by the hint of a smile.

Watching him, Jyn set a new life goal. So help her, she was going to get Cassian Andor to smile. A real, proper smile. 

“Yeah, actually,” she said, sitting up. She stretched, feeling better than she had in days. “Thanks.”

He cleared his throat, his eyes dipping down to the floor, then back to her. “Any time. I mean it.”

(She told herself she wouldn’t be back, no matter how sincere he looked when he told her she was welcome. She knew even as she thought it that it was a lie.)

**(Five weeks after party – Cassian)**

Ironically, he was the one who had a problem with the change in their relationship.

Not that he wasn’t happy. He was happier than he could remember being in his life. So happy it was sometimes frightening, because since when did anything in his life go this well?

But Jyn had shifted from what they were before, to what they were now, as easy as breathing. As if there was no qualitative difference between the way she used to kiss him on the cheek, and him between her legs while she begs _harder, please Cassian, yes, there!_

While for him… It’s not that he’s not more than happy to kiss her, to slide his hands under her clothing, to lose himself in her any chance he gets. It’s just that after nearly eight years of seeing himself as her protector, it’s a little hard for him to ask her for certain things.

Case in point: last Tuesday.

They had just been watching a movie. Nothing special. And she had just crawled into his lap to kiss him before the movie, which is a thing they do now. He’s still amazed, each time, at how good it feels to touch her, warm and soft and electric. She’d kissed him long and deep, until he was aching, head spinning. And then she’d climbed off and started the movie.

Which, on any other day, would have been the end of it. Because yeah, he was ready to say _fuck the movie_ and drag her to the bedroom, but he wasn’t going to push. He would let her set the pace, then and always.

But on Tuesday, she’d reached for the popcorn without looking and brushed against his hard-on, and then it had been a whole thing. He’d stammered some answer to her surprised, “why didn’t you say anything?” but she looked unconvinced. Which was fair, he hadn’t even convinced himself.

They’d ended up in bed, so he couldn’t exactly complain. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that she wouldn’t let it go that easily. And he was right. She didn’t.

Which is how he finds himself in his current position.

“I thought you were joking about tying me to the bed,” he says, as Jyn finishes the knot on his second wrist.

She just smiles. “The safety word is ‘banana,’ OK?”

He swallows, hard.

“Got it?”

“Yes,” he nods. “But – are you sure we can’t just talk about this?”

She gives him a sugar-sweet smile, setting alarm bells off in his head. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do. Talk.”

She leans down and kisses him, hard to the point of brutal, and he meets her energy with his own. For a brief moment, he thinks this won’t be so bad.

Too soon, though, she’s pulling away. “Uh-uh, Captain,” she says at his disappointed look. “You didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you?”

He clenches his hands, determined not to break. Whatever she has planned, he’s been through worse. He can handle this.

Five minutes in, he realizes he can’t handle this. On some level, he knows he can’t actually die of sexual frustration, but with Jyn licking halfway up his cock, then stopping and moving back to kiss his stomach, well – the knowledge isn’t very helpful.

“Please,” he says, strangled, the word bursting out of his lips despite himself.

She smiles, the sweetness of the expression incongruous with the way she’s torturing him. “Please what?”

He closes his eyes, and she licks the tip of his cock. Fuck, it’s even harder to maintain control with his eyes closed, with no idea where she is or what she’s doing. His whole body is alight with anticipation, wondering where she’ll touch him next.

He opens his eyes again, but it doesn’t give him any relief. He’s on fire, he just needs her to…

“You remember the safe word?” she says, only half teasing.

He lets his head fall back, defeated. “Please suck my cock,” he whispers.

She does without even stopping to tease him, which he would appreciate if he could think about anything but how good this feels. For a while he floats somewhere outside of thought, lost in pleasure. It’s amazing. _She’s_ amazing.

He tries to tell her, but all that comes out is a strangled moan. He feels her laugh softly, the vibrations just sending him higher, closer -

“Wait,” he gasps. She pauses and looks at him, still bent over his cock, and the image nearly sends him over the edge. “I’m going to come, I want – let me touch you, please…”

She moves upwards slowly, her hair skimming his stomach. He turns toward her, chin tilting upwards without thinking, but she ignores his lips, moving instead to the soft skin under his ear. The feather-light kisses she brushes along his jaw are somehow just as erotic as the way she licked him earlier.

“Please,” he says again, hands straining against the restraints. “I want this to be good for you.”

She moves back up, her lips tickling his ear. “No,” she whispers.

He’s so surprised that all he can think to say is, “But I asked.”

She smiles against his jaw, then lifts her face to look at him. At the same time, her hand snakes down between them and grabs his cock. He forces himself to keep his eyes on her face.

“I know,” she says, giving him a slow, hard tug that has him hissing in pleasure. “You asked so nicely. And since you did so well on your first lesson, here’s another. Sometimes, I’m going to make you feel good. And you’re just going to take it.”

She swallows his protest with a kiss, while her hands – fuck, her hands are driving him wild. His hips don’t seem to be taking orders from his brain anymore; they push up, seeking release, even as he’s thinking _but wait - _

She takes him in her mouth again, and he knows it’s almost over. His body loves this. It feels like every nerve in his body is lit up, tingling, _yearning_, and he knows that when he comes, he’ll come _hard_.

His brain, though – his brain still isn’t convinced. He should be touching her, this should be about her. But it’s too late for that, and the feel of her mouth around him, hot and wet and tight, is so perfect, and so he does what she suggests and just takes it.

His climax, when it hits, is every bit as hard as he thought it would be. His back arches, hands straining against the restraints. He hears himself talking, as if from a distance, but for the life of him he couldn’t say what it is he’s saying, or even in what language. But Jyn looks very pleased with herself, as she moves up to lie down by his side, so he didn’t say anything wrong.

“Jyn?” he manages after a long minute, his body still feeling boneless, unmoored.

“Hmm?”

“Untie me?”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” she says, and releases his wrists. He lets them fall to his sides, as temporarily worthless as the rest of him.

She rests her chin on his chest, and he remembers how to breath again. “Good?” she asks, watching him.

“Good?” he repeats, incredulous. He’s back to himself, now, or at least close enough to it to flip her over, pressing her into the mattress as he presses kisses down her neck and across her chest. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.”

“Damn straight,” she says, confident, but her cheeks are pink and he remembers that he really needs to tell her over and over how good she is. Because she tends to forget that, and she shouldn’t. She shouldn’t go a second in her life without knowing that she’s perfect, that she’s wanted.

So, “You’re perfect,” he tells her, and then, because he’s waited long enough and then some, “Please, please let me touch you now.”

She grins up at him. “Do your worst, Captain.”


End file.
